I live in a small town in upstate New York and it is often quiet, but never this quiet, or so still.

The virus asks different things of us, To wait, be still, do nothing, stay away. I can’t think of another trauma that asked that of us.

I have to say that I do love the quiet, the sense of being still, the sense of expectation. I am not in Boston, Seattle or New York City, I don’t imagine it’s quiet like this,  I think of the people living there, heading into the whirlwind.

I think of my daughter, anxious about her family, her job, staying still in Brooklyn. I think of the thousands of sick people, many struggling to breathe. I think of my brave sister going to her job as a supermarket cashier, 74 and fearless, happy to do some good.

I think of Maria, worried about me, watching me, scolding me. I am listening to her, even if she doesn’t always think so.

I feel helpless but excited. We got the laptops for the Bishop Maginn kids. We are sending them gift certificates for food. Maria and I are making a Rainbow Connection Flag for the Mansion residents.

We are taping a podcast this afternoon. We are walking in the woods today. It takes faith to imagine the danger coming, it’s hard to believe if one can’t see it, but I believe it. I am doing everything I am supposed to do and a being asked to go.

The quiet speaks loudly to me, and am in peace, thinking of all the people who can’t be.